


Broken

by ev1878



Series: Ramsay Snow/Theon Greyjoy (Reek) [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Branding, Dreadfort, Emasculation, Hurt, M/M, Other, Psychological Torture, Sadism, Short One Shot, Torture, Violence, Winterfell, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ev1878/pseuds/ev1878
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Please, no, mercy, please, mercy, mercy!' I begged.</p><p>'This is mercy. I am not killing you.' He said.</p><p>'No, no no, please......please.....'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Set AFTER Theon Greyjoy's emasculation. POV Theon Greyjoy.  
> Trying to portrait the best of Theon Greyjoy/Ramsay Bolton through his dialogues.

I opened my eyes only to found myself once again tied to the cross. I didn’t know how long I had actually slept, but at least this time I wasn’t woken up by Ramsay’s terrifying war horn. He was sitting at the table on the other side of the room. Dim light spread form the torch on the walls. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was eating, and probably thinking about what he should do to me next. Really, how could it get any worse after they had relieved me of my…. my……

‘Did the smell of the sausage woke you up, Lord Theon?” He turned to me with his typical, sadistic grin. I flinched just from the look. Fear, pure fear, everything I processed from his behaviours sent pure fear to my body and mind. I’d trusted him before, but now I never knew if he was lying or not. I couldn’t tell anymore, not after the incident when he pretended to help me flee and framed me for killing all his guards, sending me right back to this ugly cross, not after I confessed to him my deepest sins, not after he sent the girls in and caught me off-guard and did.......the thing……..

‘You know people talk about this phantom limb itches when an amputee had his foot cut off, and I wonder,’ he paused for a second, ‘next time when you think about naked girls, will you feel…..an itch….on your phantom…..cock?’  
I turned away and lowered my head in shame. All the flaying, beating, impaling, starving, dehydration, combining with the ultimate humiliation and the excruciating pain radiating from my groin upwards, I started to sob.  
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about it. My mother taught me not to throw stones at the cripple,’ he shifted in his seat, ‘but my father taught me, to aim for the head!’  
‘Kill me…….’ I whispered weakly.  
He raised his hand to his ear with a fake questioning look,’ a little louder?’  
‘Kill me….!’ I cried desperately. Tears flowed freely down my face, my back cramped from being strapped to the cross for so long, but it was nothing now.

‘And why would I do that?’ He asked as he slowly stood up and made his way towards me. I tugged at the restrains involuntarily as panic washed all over me.  
‘I….I can’t…..I can’t take it…anymore…..’ I kept my head down, refusing to meet his cruel gaze.  
He suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked my head back to look at him, his face pressing so close that I could feel his hot breath.  
‘What do you mean by you can’t take it? You’ve survived your emasculation, how worse can it possibly go?’  
With little room to move, I shook my head desperately and closed my eyes, ‘just kill me, please.’ A whimper was bitten back unsuccessfully as my captor tightened his grip, my breath laboured. He put his left hand to his belt and I almost pleaded again thinking he might just draw out his flaying knife. Instead, he produced a letter. I secretly let out a breath, but the relief didn’t last long before he started to read out the letter in an over-dramatic way.

Lord Bolton,  
As head of the Iron Islands, I’m here to notify you that Theon Greyjoy, my son, whom you had held captive, poses no threat to me as he has little value to me indeed. You now have full authority and assessment to all sorts of acts concerning him. He will not be viewed as an Ironman or even a Northman should he ever returns. Therefore, you may do what you want, but I’m not for any negotiations under any circumstances.  
Signed,  
Balon Greyjoy

My whole body trembled violently. Was this the truth, or it was just another trick from my captor? He approached me again, edging the letter to my face, ‘I know what you’re thinking, Greyjoy. But I’m not lying to you. You recognise the handwriting, don’t you?’  
My heart sunk to the deepest place it could ever go. The hand in my hair tightened again and I yelped. ‘I’m asking you a question! Do you know the handwriting, or you want me to flay you?’ His other hand dropped the letter and reached for his flaying knife.  
‘No…..no..I mean….yes, I know the handwriting, Balon’s…..’ My voice trembled.  
He released my hair and let my head fall back to my chest, ‘seems like you are no good to him now. However, are you any good to me?’ He raised a questioning brow.  
Just how was I supposed to answer that question?  
‘I…..I…..I don’t…..’  
‘You don’t know, of course! Tell you what, ‘no’ for the castle but ‘yes’ for myself!’ He took a step forward, ‘personal entertainment….’ He whispered into my ear as his knife trailed down the scars on my chest.  
‘Please……’ I begged, barely audible.  
‘You say please again,’ he stamped down painfully on my impaled foot, ‘you’d wish you hadn’t.’  
I cried out miserably. My vision blurred as I nodded, praying that he would understand my ‘good intentions’, even though I had barely moved my head. I must looked extremely pathetic.

‘You are no lord now, are you? You are just meat, stinky meat!’ he sniffed, ‘you reek!’ Then he gasped and took a step backwards as if he had realised something.  
‘Reek! That’s a good name for you! What’s your name?’ he asked.  
I had a name, and that being Theon Greyjoy, I was not Reek.  
‘Theon Greyjoy.’ I replied, even when I knew that it would surely get me into some massive troubles. A fierce slap across my face sent my neck snapping backward and hit the wooden cross.  
‘What is your name?’ He asked again, more than carefully.  
‘Th- Theon Greyjoy.’ My voice hoarse and weak. I closed my eyes, waiting for what was going to come. This time it came even harder that my neck remained awkwardly bent, unable to move back. I groaned and pleaded involuntarily, but my voice was getting so tiny that he didn’t even notice it.

‘What-is-your-name, last chance, or…..’ his flaying knife sliced a stripe on my arm. I flinched and couldn’t hold back my screams, but I knew I couldn’t plead.  
‘Reek….’ I said.  
The corner of his mouth twisted into an evil grin that appeared every time before he flayed me.  
‘No…….ple…don’t…. My name is…. name is…. Reek….’

‘That’s more like it, Reek!’ He said in a surprisingly bright voice. With a whistle, a guard came in with a piece of metal that had been burnt viciously red, shining ghostly in the dim light of the torch.  
‘That means, you are more than willing to accept this personalised gift. Yes, Reek?’  
‘Yes….’ My body shook uncontrollably yet I replied.  
‘Yes what?’ He took the piece of metal into his hand.  
‘Yes, m’lord.’ I replied, as obediently as I could, and fought back the urge to turn away in shame. Actually, I was in too much fear, and too much pain to even move. And I didn’t dare thinking about the consequences disobeying him.  
‘See? This ‘R’ is made especially for you. Are you not grateful for my great kindness?’ He edged the red, hot metal ‘R’ closer to my face. I screwed my eyes shut and couldn’t help whimpering.

‘Your face doesn’t look very convincing, though. I’m afraid we will have to start it all over again from the very beginning?’  
I shook my head as if I really could, ‘no…..no….ple…just…don’t….’  
‘You may plead now!’ He commanded with a grin.  
‘Please, m’lord, please don’t flay me. Please….please………burn me.’ I gathered up all my courage and pleaded.  
He cocked an eyebrow, ‘you’re asking for it now?’  
I swallowed real head and suppressed another whimper, ‘yes, m’lord. B-burn me, please.’  
He shook his head in fake sympathy.  
‘Since you are asking so nicely, I guess I can only mercifully grant you your humble request, can I not?’

An extremely hot and melting sensation hit my right cheek with sizzling sound of flesh coming out. The pain rapidly spread through every cell and nerve on my face to my temples. My head felt cracking. I didn’t dare crying out, but I doubted if I did. I could smelled the burnt flesh now, and it probably wouldn’t go away in the rest of my life. The last thought before everything went dark, I prayed with all my heart that I had held still enough for my Lord to finish his kind business. 

I am Reek. I am here to please him, and that forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm completely open to different thoughts and appreciate all comments, so please feel free to tell me what you think or what you think I can improve.  
> Thanks.  
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Andri


End file.
